Chapter Seven
Nick was pacing in the parlor, waiting for the Warricks to be shown into the room. Lord Graves had begged off, pleading illness, which Nick supposed could very well be true. His mother would have a healer in to see to him tomorrow if he didn’t improve.
But for now, he needed to be present here while they informed Nell about the slight change in plans. The word would be put out that Lord Graves had stepped down voluntarily, as he would be ill for some time and would be seen to by the palace healers.
But good gods, this was not how he’d wanted to meet Nell for the first time.
He’d wanted to meet her for certain. Even the small conversations he’d had with her had made him want to learn more.
She was direct in a way he wasn’t used to in the slightest. And she was blunt and kind, and he absolutely wasn’t in knots over everything that had been in the file that Peter had given to him.
Though it had mostly been about her father, and the things that Earl Warrick had done for the city. But he’d seen Nell’s name more than once in the file, that she’d worked at her father’s side for the greater part.
He wondered if her mother knew.
He thought not, but then he hadn’t thought that his mother had been cognizant of his father’s doings. So, there was every chance that Lady Warrick knew precisely what her husband and daughter had been doing during the war.
“Nicholas, come and greet our guests.” His mother’s voice came from the doorway. “Lady and Miss Warrick, this is my son, Duke Graves.”
Nick saw the questions flame in Nell’s eyes and immediately stepped over to bow over Lady Warrick’s hand. “My lady.”
“Your Grace,” she curtsied back, narrowing her eyes at him before nodding once, sharply, and looking at Nell. “My daughter, Miss Warrick.”
“A pleasure, Miss Warrick.” He bowed to her, but didn’t take her hand.
“Thank you, your Grace.” She sent him a confused look. “You have a lovely home.”
“I had less than nothing to do with it,” Nick said. “My mother is the mastermind behind the decor.”
Nell turned to Duchess Graves. “And your pianoforte is beautiful.”
“Do you play, dear?” His mother took Nell to the piano. “I had it tuned, but none of us play, so it unfortunately goes unused.”
“Only a little, your Grace, and very poorly.” Nell went a very interesting shade of pink. “I am much better with my harp.”
“A piano is just a sideways harp,” Nick said quietly. “I don’t doubt you could play.”
“She is splendid on the harp, Nicholas.” His mother gave him a bright smile. “Simply splendid.” She turned her attention back to Nell. “Do try for us. I hate to see the old thing so neglected.”
“Yes, your Grace,” Nell moved to sit down at the piano and folded the key cover back and out of the way before she settled her fingers on the keys.
Her playing wasn’t masterful, but it was clear she’d had quite a lot of training on her chosen instrument. He’d love to hear her play someday.
“Forgive the noise,” Nell said, bright pink, when she moved to close the piano again. “I need more practice, but our sitting room has no space for a piano with Greta.”
“Her harp,” his mother said with a smile. “Isn’t that darling?”
“You would be welcome to use ours,” Nick said after nodding to his mother. “There’s some old sheet music in the bench from when I was being hopeless at music.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose, Your Grace.” She rose and went back to stand with her mother.
And then tea was brought in, cutting Nick’s protest that it wouldn’t be an imposition off at the knees.
It was a very proper tea, conversation held precisely to the accepted modes by the two older ladies. Nick just sat back, offering his opinion when it was required of him, and tried to match the file, Nell, and their conversation in the garden.
She was protecting something or someone, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. But there was no way to do that with snow falling outside and both of their mothers there.
Which meant that he would watch, and when she went back to the garden, he would be there to try to talk to her again.
After three hours, Duchess Graves rose and took Nell by the hand. “Come with me dear, we have some arrangements to make for your come out.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Nell cast a look back at him as she was led away, leaving him in the parlor with a suddenly extremely sharp-looking Lady Warrick.
“My lady?” The look she had turned on Nick made him think of his old governess when she was about to thwack him. “Have I done something?”
“Be careful with my girl.” She ordered, eyes sharp enough to cut. “If you are careless with her, duke or no, I’ll take care of you.”
“My lady, I have no idea what you are referring to.” Nick said carefully. “Have I done something?”
“No,” Lady Warrick settled back. “Not yet, but if you are going to talk to my Nellie in the garden at night, make certain you promise her nothing that you will not follow through on.”
“I swear it,” he said, holding up his still-bandaged hand. “I will be as good to her as she will allow.”
Lady Warrick nodded, satisfaction running in her eyes. “Good then, I assume you already know about her work for the city? Peter is a horrible gossip, though he did good work during the war.”
“He gave me the file, but it focuses mostly on the Earl.” Nick leaned forward, hoping that he was going to be told something that might help him approach Nell.
“Everything my Steven did, so did my Nellie.” Lady Warrick nodded. “I was sick with it, but the city needed them.”